


An Imperfect, Mortal Revelation

by Shammoner



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Suicidal Thoughts, Unnamed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22150657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shammoner/pseuds/Shammoner
Summary: The Warrior of Light was not coping particularly well after saving the First.  Running into an old friend in Ala Mhigo helped, though.
Relationships: Hien Rijin/Warrior of Light
Comments: 11
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Way Down We Go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309105) by [Starships](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starships/pseuds/Starships). 



> This work owes some literary lineage to [Way Down We Go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309105/chapters/45927244) by [Starships](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starships/pseuds/Starships). It's a lovely fic, and some of the framing devices here are pretty similar--I didn't want anyone to think I was just straight ripping it off! I hope it comes across as more of an homage, which is what I intended.
> 
> The smut is in chapter 4, and the fic won't feel complete without it, but you can certainly stop reading at chapter 3 if you want to!

The Warrior of Light, liberator of two worlds, slayer of Ascians, savior of the downtrodden...felt hollow and untethered from reality.

It was hard  _ not _ to in present circumstances, with the other Scions still living their half-lives on the First while their bodies slumbered. With little to do but wander or take part in what felt like a futile search for answers, her mind ran wild, feasting on a diet of what-ifs and maybes in between replaying scenes from her journeys so far. Some things stuck in her mind like splinters...G’raha’s face when she’d called him by name, the sight of unimaginable destruction raining down on their star...the look on Hades’ face and the tone of his voice when he’d bade her remember...

Where was she going, and  _ what _ was she, these days?

She alternated between the First and the Source and in both worlds spent more and more time afield, sometimes hitching rides on wagons away from the Crystarium or Mor Dhona, other times renting an amaro or calling up her chocobo or yol with a sharp whistle and just letting her mount have the reins, trying to sort through the mess of thoughts in her head with each footfall or wingbeat.

It was on another visit back to the Source that she found herself crossing the rocky terrain of Gyr Abania atop the back of her yol, each wingbeat bringing her closer and closer to the Lochs. She guessed why it had chosen to head that way, after a time--the Domans had been set up with a building in the Ala Mhigan Quarter to serve as a sort of headquarters and embassy in the face of the skirmishes back and forth across the Ghimlyt Dark. Even with the Garleans falling into disarray, the Alliance wasn’t taking any chances, so for the moment the Domans remained as guests in Ala Mhigo. Their embassy had a massive version of a falconer’s mews on its roof, for yols and giant Othardian falcons alike to come and go as they pleased, and she knew that her yol was fond of spending time with others of its kind.

She wished she felt the same at the moment.

The bird was willing enough to drop her off at the menagerie before it began its stately glide back down to the city below, and she paced through the gardens in the late afternoon light, trying not to let her mind drift to the worst possible thoughts. It was surprisingly difficult, because each white flower was a horrible reminder of the burning light she had coughed up, and as the sun began to set and a blue haze fell over the entire area, leaving only dim patches of blurred color, it called to mind the warped, wavering colors of the vision of the world’s destruction that Hades had shown her.

Her steps took her to the edge of the gardens, looking out over the old airship docks, the columns and piers seemingly rooted in cloud with the ground below invisible. Just in the distance, she could make out the cracked and broken stone where Zenos had thrown the form of Shinryu against her over and over until not even the sturdy Gyr Abanian construction could withstand the force involved.

And yet  _ she _ had, somehow. Clinging to the primal’s scales at the last moment as the platform beneath her feet gave way, landing in some sort of unreal realm and continuing to fight--and that was even before her time on the First.

More and more these days, she wondered what she was. She recalled Hades’ words about the Ascians being tempered by Zodiark, and her growing worry about her own relationship to Hydaelyn. Remembered that twisting heartache as she walked through the streets of a city that the logical part of her mind said she’d never seen before, but some part of her heart insisted was  _ home. _

The ledge on the other side of the stone balustrade was narrow, but at the moment she didn’t really care about the possibility of falling. She hopped over and stood there, the warm stone pressing into the back of her legs, and let herself stare into the abyss before her.

She let her mind’s voice run wild and tell her what it willed, and a thought sprang up at once-- _ what if you jumped? _ That voice--she’d heard chirurgeons talking to soldiers who’d fallen into black despair that thoughts like that were just intrusive thoughts, that everyone had those kinds of thoughts and the trick was, of course, just ignoring them and moving on like you ought--

But what if she  _ did _ jump. Would she even die? Would she just jump bodies upon her death, like Zenos had managed, like the Ascians did? Since Ardbert’s soul had rejoined with her own, was it possible, or had it been possible from the beginning and she hadn’t known? She felt like she might shatter into a million pieces at any moment, the way she had felt fragile after absorbing the Lightwardens, but that had been a false fragility--she wouldn’t have died, but turned into a greater monster than Vauthry had ever been. She was beginning to fear that would always be true. 

Now that she was back on the Source, everything felt dim and distant and unreal, all that she had gone through held at one remove from her waking mind--probably because when she started to truly deal with it she might break down. Hadn’t she done  _ enough? _ Did the world need her to stand against all its varied threats that badly? She chuckled inwardly at the mere concept of retirement--she knew well enough she was one-of-a-kind, especially now, one fragment richer than the other inhabitants of the source.

Her mind whispered to her over and over, unceasing, the thoughts bubbling up like water in a sinkhole.  _ Aren’t you a bit curious? Don’t you deserve rest--perhaps forever? Jump. Jump, and test whether you’re still mortal. Whether you’re turning into what you fight against. Whether you’re just another kind of monster, and maybe always have been. And if you are still mortal, at least you can rest. _

She choked back something approaching a sob at that last thought, and dipped a toe over the ledge experimentally, much as if she were testing the temperature of a bath and not the concept of a plunge into oblivion.

“Ah, it  _ is _ you! I--”

She was too disciplined to jump at the sudden voice but she did lean back a bit harder against the balustrade and grip it with one hand as she glanced over her shoulder. She thought she recognized that voice, but--

Yes. It was him--Lord Hien Rijin, ruler of Doma, squinting through the falling gloom with a growing look of concern as he realized she was on the other side of the railing.

However, though he stopped talking, he didn’t launch into admonishments or rush over to try and pull her back over the rail. She could see that he was thinking, composing his words, perhaps, and when he walked forward it was at a measured pace, one hand on the hilt of his katana.

“Taking in the view?” he said, coming to rest a couple of yalms away from her, on the other side of the balustrade. Too far to make a quick grab for her, should she fall--or jump. A show of trust, perhaps.

“Something like that,” she replied, her voice rusty from disuse and hollow even to her own ears. Hien shifted his weight a bit, but he didn’t move and didn’t look directly at her.

“I’ve been up here a few times since that last battle at the front,” he said, his tone gentle. “It’s a good place to think. Even though they’ve opened it up, few people make the journey all the way to the top. I sometimes happen across Lyse, or General Aldynn, but even they seem loath to walk all the way up here.”

She closed her eyes, drifting one foot out over the empty air again as she let his voice wash over her. She considered jumping anyway, but something caught in her chest now, like a barbed hook pulling on her heart, and she knew at once it was his presence that did it. Even the abstract thought of how he’d react stilled her restless mind, knowing that he might blame himself if the worst came to pass and--

And she didn’t want that.

With a subtle sigh, she hefted herself up to sit on the railing. Hien relaxed by the slightest of degrees, and if she hadn’t been watching, she probably wouldn’t have noticed. She didn’t begrudge him that, since the thought crossed her mind that if she’d come up here and found  _ him _ on the other side of the balustrade, she wouldn’t have held her composure nearly as well as he had.

“Have you ever wished,” she said suddenly, the words spilling from her lips before she could think better of it, “that everything would just...end? Of--just giving in, giving up, and letting Doma find its way without--without you?”

She wasn’t sure what she expected. Some kind of immediate denial, perhaps, for all that she’d heard his tired words when they’d found him overlooking Reunion--if they’d come for his blade, or his head. Instead, he gazed out across the cloudy expanse, eyes not focused on anything in particular.

“Yes,” he replied simply. “Forgive me if I ramble a bit, but...the day our rebellion failed, I--Zenos had just run my father through, but Kaien looked to the north in his last moments and back to me, and as all the light went out of his eyes, I knew what he was telling me to do. And in that moment, I hated him for it.”

She barely breathed as he spoke, his grip tightening on his katana until the leather creaked.

“Several of the samurai and shinobi broke off with me, and they spent their lives one at a time as we crossed the valley. The Garleans kept chasing us--I suppose they knew who I was, and they were eager to see the Rijin line wiped out. They managed to wound me--badly, unto death--and the last few of my faithful stayed near the lake to head off the rest of the soldiers, and I went on--alone.”

She was enthralled. She could almost see the scene; the rough landscape of Yanxia, a bleeding and broken Hien stumbling along as he made his way further north, pushing on beyond the point of breaking, somehow. It wasn’t the Echo, just her imagination, but it held her in its thrall just as surely.

“Every time I wanted to stop, to give in, I managed to find some wellspring of strength that let me keep moving. I crossed into the forest, but I couldn’t manage to hide my trail. I could barely manage to keep moving. It wasn’t much longer before I collapsed, and I knew I was done for, that it was only a matter of time until their trackers found me.”

The scene played in her mind’s eye again; the man staggering through the trees, leaving a trail of blood spattered along the ground and amidst the foliage. Each step slower, and slower, until he fell, katana falling from insensate fingers, a dark and spreading stain soaking into the ground below him.

“All I could think of at the time was...that I had failed, that  _ we _ had failed. My father was dead, and I didn’t see any way I could go on, so I beseeched the kami that if it was what they willed, that they at least take me quickly. Everything hurt, everything felt so cold and distant, and I see no shame in saying that I wept.”

She couldn’t bear to imagine  _ that _ , so she merely looked at him. “And yet here you are.”

“Yes, but I believe you know why,” he said. “It must not have been but minutes later that Cirina found me, along with some of her kin, a stretcher, and horses. Bade by the gods of the Mol, she said, but I was barely clinging to consciousness at that time. When I woke, I was in Mol Iloh, which was in the south of the steppe, then. There’s something surreal about waking in so much pain when you thought you might never wake again, and even more so to find yourself face to face with a sheep that wandered into your tent.”

As was probably his intent, the sudden twist in the story pulled a laugh from her. She could just imagine the dainty woolen face of a Mol sheep mere ilms from Hien’s, regarding him with the familiar blank stare of ovines the world over.

“But you didn’t ask whether I felt despair when I lay dying in the forest,” he said. “You asked if I ever thought of giving up. That came later.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he looked down into the abyss below the airship docks.

“I did. Multiple times--I think the first was when I was first able to bathe on my own and saw just how many wounds the Garleans had managed to give me. It wasn’t just my shoulder and my eyebrow, you know. I was so angry for a moment, and then...then I remembered that my father was dead, and how many had given their lives that I might live, and all the anger went out of me and was replaced with...nothing. Just this pit of emptiness stretching into forever. I found myself wondering why I lived when so many had died.”

That...was entirely too understandable, and she shifted on the banister out of some vague desire to reach over and hug him, as wildly inappropriate as that seemed at the moment. He either didn’t notice or didn’t choose to comment, because he kept talking.

“My recovery was slow, and every setback seemed not only physical, but mental. I cursed the kami and the gods of the Mol for letting me live, sometimes, and when I began to hear rumors about what had happened in the wake of our failure, I…”

His gaze grew somehow even more distant. “By then, Mol Iloh was in the hills, as it was when you visited the Steppe, and I knew where the House of the Fierce was. I went up there more than once, thinking of throwing myself in like one of the Dotharl who wanted to break the cycle. I somehow always found the strength to turn back, in the end.”

She exhaled sharply at the muddled emotions in his tone.

“Of course, I healed...Cirina helped...but as I’m sure you can tell, that uncertainty lingered even after, given how I reacted when you found me above Reunion.” He looked at her pointedly. “And I know I have not known you as long as many of your friends, but--wherever it was you went, you have been wounded nigh unto death, have you not? In body and spirit alike, if I’m any judge.”

She turned to face him, but wasn’t able to meet his eyes. She slid off the banister and crumpled to the ground, drawing her knees up to her chest.

“Yes,” she managed to say finally. “Hien, I--I don’t even know if I  _ can _ die anymore. I might just come back like Zenos did, forever. I feel as if I came close to dying when I was--at the worst of it, but the reality was worse. I would have just turned into a monster and been that way for the rest of eternity…”

He sat, legs folded, in front of her, and didn’t speak, though she could get the sense that he wasn’t quite understanding her words.

She struggled for a bit, and finally decided she owed him an explanation, and that she had to start somewhere.

“Back before I ever set foot in Ala Mhigo, when I was still tying up loose ends in Coerthas and Dravania, I ran across a group calling themselves the Warriors of Darkness…”


	2. Chapter 2

The telling took some time. It was full night by the time she finished, when she had at last explained the whole sad tale of Hades and the continuing struggle to bring the Scions home. She’d only had glances at his face in between all of that, and by the time she finished talking her voice was failing her and her eyes were burning. Of all the people she could unburden herself to, it probably ought to have been Krile or Tataru, not the leader of Doma, but...well, he had listened so patiently…

“I’m not sure I even know who I am anymore,” she croaked out at last, twisting her hands together. “Or what I am. If I’m like the rest of the Ascians, just on Hydaelyn’s side instead of Zodiark’s, or--”

“You are my friend,” Hien said firmly. “You are a warrior and a liberator and a hero. And you are not like them--I heard what you told me. That Hades didn’t really consider us alive. You’ve helped chase down sheep and helped my people rebuild and settle arguments about paper mills and smithies, set lanterns aloft for the fallen, and--a thousand other small kindnesses that I know you can’t help but do every day of your life. Don’t try to tell me you don’t help others every chance you get.”

That got a dry chuckle out of her. “I suppose that’s true, yes.”

“Do you see me as lesser?” he asked. His tone was not accusatory, and she caught his meaning at once.

“Of course not,” she said, mind momentarily blanking out at the absurdity of the statement. “You’re the leader of Doma, you’re brave and--”

“Yet if what you said is accurate,” he said patiently even as he interrupted, “then I am lesser than you by mere definition, if you’ve brought this fellow named Ardbert--brought his soul back into your own. Yes?”

“I don’t see it that way,” she said. “How can I judge who is lesser when all of us live and breathe and cry, make music and art, care for those we love, write and read and  _ exist  _ as hard as we can? We may not be as powerful as those Ancients, but I will never believe for an instant that we aren’t  _ people.  _ That we aren’t alive.”

“And that is why you’re not as alike to Hades or the other Ascians as you might be thinking,” he said, sounding satisfied. “You see the worth and goodness in even those who are broken or hurting. You want to help. This Hades might have been a friend of yours in antiquity, all those lives ago, but your paths have diverged. Your nature told you there might be something there to save, but you don’t always get to make that choice.”

“When did you get so wise?” she asked, choked up as he put a pin in her wandering thoughts so neatly.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think and read while lying abed,” he said ruefully. “Turns out when you’re so injured you can’t move more than a fulm or two, there’s not much else to do.”

She smiled, and then the tears came in earnest. She couldn’t control them at that point, for they were equal parts relief and shame. The fact that she’d unburdened herself of such terrible thoughts and worries to someone and that she had been shown compassion was almost too much for the continuing ache in her chest. Each sob felt like an exorcism, ripped from her chest almost painfully, and she was startled when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, turning her, pulling her closer--

_ Ah. _

Hien tucked her against his chest and hummed softly, his arms wrapped around her as if he could protect her from the world. The idea was almost ridiculous, that she, the Warrior of Light and Darkness, might need this kind of comfort, but it sank into her very soul. The fur trim of his open robe was soft against her face, and she turned into it, hoping that he wouldn’t mind if it got a bit soaked with tears.

He held her close as she cried herself out, and when she finally took a long, shaky breath, she felt empty...but not in a bad way. It reminded her of city streets after a spring rain, temporarily clean and clear of people, but with the promise of activity to come.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked.

“No need, my friend,” he murmured. “I told you I cried, did I not? You’ve been through enough lately that you were past due, that’s all. How long have you been denying yourself this?”

Her mind blanked out a bit. “I...I don’t know. I don’t know how long it’s been since…”

Since she had cried? More like, since she could properly decompress. They had told her to go rest after every Lightwarden, back on the First, but she wasn’t kidding herself about how it had been very  _ poor _ rest. She would eat and sleep, mechanically, perhaps talk to Ardbert a bit around all the necessary steps for survival, and then it was back to it the next day. She was continuing to do it even now, just transposing pure activity to wandering to have something to  _ do _ while they tried to find some cure for the scions.

By the Twelve, she was tired.

“I don’t know,” she muttered at last. “It feels like it’s been...years since the last time I just...stopped. Maybe longer.”

Hien’s grip tightened. “You are a wonder,” he murmured softly. “If I believe you more than the rest of us, it’s only because I don’t know how any person could bear the strain you have and keep going, and that is  _ not _ a compliment. Everyone has their limits. You should rest, before you have to put yours to the test.”

She sighed out, hiccuping slightly as she did. Her lungs felt tight, her chest constricted. “I’m not entirely sure I know how,” she admitted at last, her voice bitter.

He hummed softly in response. “Well, perhaps it’s time to ask for help,” he suggested. “And my first idea would be sleep. A good night’s rest, without anyone coming to wake you up and throw you at some kind of problem.”

“That sounds nice,” she said. “I tend to have problems staying asleep, though.”

“Well, we’ll work on that,” he said firmly, and he shifted her away from his chest a bit. She felt momentarily cold, but the way he smiled at her banished the sensation, leaving her smiling--somewhat shakily--in return. “Come on. I’ll take you back to the embassy. They gave us more space than we could ever use, so I’m sure we can find room for you there.”

She started to make a token protest, but he shushed her and turned, kneeling and motioning for her to--to climb on his back. It was absurd. The leader of Doma, carrying the Warrior of Light around like a child? And yet…

It didn’t take her long to agree, especially when he  _ pouted _ at her. Utterly unfair. She’d rather die than admit to the kinds of feelings that stirred in her, so instead she let him hook his arms under her thighs, and she struggled to find a good place to put her arms until she gave up and wrapped them around his shoulders anyway. He stood and started walking, and she found his hair impossible to ignore or avoid--so after a few moments she gave up trying and leaned her head forward slightly, resting it against his own and closing her eyes with a sigh.

“Good,” he said softly. “Relax. We’ll take care of you.”

His tone suggested he would allow no argument, so she merely murmured her assent. She wasn’t sure what he washed his hair with, but the smell was herbal and strangely comforting--she thought maybe she could detect pine and woodsmoke, and it took far too long for her tired mind to suggest that maybe it wasn’t appropriate for her to be trying to puzzle out what the Lord of Doma’s  _ hair  _ smelled like _. _

If Hien minded, though, he didn’t say anything, merely continuing on his path, taking outdoor staircases down the side of the Ala Mhigan palace and toward the city below. At some point, she lost track of where she was and how much time was passing, lulled into a hazy state by Hien’s secure grip and her own exhaustion. When she heard a voice, though, she came back to herself.

They were back in the city proper, on the roof of the Doman embassy. A stone bridge connected it to some walkways that led up and toward the Menagerie, so she assumed that was how he had gotten there and back. The voice belonged to Yugiri, who was looking at them with concern, though her expression eased a bit when she managed to stir herself and loosen her grip on Hien’s shoulders a bit.

“I can walk,” she assured him. “You can put me down.”

“I can, but what if I don’t want to?” he asked, tilting his head in her direction but not quite looking back at her. Her mind blanked out at that, but he chuckled and stooped a little so she could slide to the ground easier. Mortified, she glanced at Yugiri, sure somehow that the shinobi would disapprove, but Yugiri merely had a soft smile on her face.

“We’ve got room for our friend to rest here, right, Yugiri?” Hien asked. “She’s very tired and needs to sleep undisturbed.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Yugiri said with an abbreviated bow. “More room than we could fill twice over. This way, my friend. I’ll show you to a room and ensure you’re not bothered.”

“Thank you,” she said, then turned to Hien. “And thank you. For...well, listening, and...everything, I suppose.” She bowed a bit, then turned back to Yugiri. The other woman was still smiling, and continued to as she turned and led the Warrior into the building proper.

* * *

She couldn’t begin to guess what the building might have been used for before it became the property of the Domans, but it was clear that the room Yugiri showed her to hadn’t been a bedroom. It had no windows, for one, so the shinobi had to light a lamp, and the dimensions were odd--not to mention that the bed looked as if it had been shoved in as an afterthought, crammed between the wall and some crates that would make getting in and out inconvenient at best. Yugiri sighed when she saw that, but the Warrior was quick to assure her it was fine.

“I’ve slept in far worse places,” she said, already tossing her pack to rest by the door and pulling off the outer layer of her armor. “Thank you.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Yugiri demurred. “I feel as if my Lord would be cross if he knew you were settling for this, though.”

“Best he doesn’t know, then,” the Warrior said firmly, and Yugiri merely sighed before wishing her a good night.

She pulled off her boots and put the lamp on one of the crates near the bed, climbing over said crates to lie down before dimming it and rolling up in the blankets. It wasn’t the softest bed, but it was a far sight better than a camp bed or bedroll or, Twelve forbid, the floor. She was tired enough that it wasn’t going to matter, anyway.

Exhaustion claimed her, and she drifted to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

She shouldn’t have been surprised at the nightmare. She’d been having them since that horrendous encounter at the top of Mt. Gulg, after all--remembering the gut-wrenching pain as her soul started to break apart from primordial light, remembering the way Hades had crouched before her and condescended to her. Remembering the pain, like a knife in her chest and her head, and then it always branched out. Losing control of the light before Ryne could staunch it, completing her transformation into the greatest of Lightwardens, turning each of the Scions…

This time, Hien was there.

She  _ forced _ herself awake with a panicked scream and sat up all at once, clutching at her head and hunching over in the next breath. She let out another exhalation of panic as her waking mind tried to reconcile itself with the dream, as she tried to reassure herself that it hadn’t been real, that Hien was fine, somewhere in this same building and probably asleep.

It wasn’t really helping. She could still see his shocked face, his expressive eyes going blank like Tesleen’s had, as if the nightmare had burned itself into the back of her eyelids. It wasn’t until she started hiccuping that she realized she was crying again, the tears dripping onto the blankets of her borrowed bed. At least they were perfectly normal tears.

She managed to lever herself up after a moment, wiping her eyes on her shirtsleeve and picking up the lamp as she made her way to the door. She didn’t really have a plan as she opened the door and slipped out, barefoot, just that she wanted to make sure somehow that Hien was...safe. That he was okay. That was enough. She didn’t want to let herself contemplate just why he’d been tossed into the recurring nightmare, not after his earlier kindness. Mostly she didn’t want to let herself contemplate that she wished they hadn’t parted ways on the roof. If she’d woken up and he was right beside her…

She shook herself. He was the Lord of Doma. By all the Twelve, she must be going mad.

The stone floor was chilly this late, and she was shivering by the time she made it to the end of the hall. She paused, putting other senses than sight to work, and heard the faint murmurs of conversation from downstairs. Perhaps the night shift of whatever guard the Domans kept. That would do. If she couched her request in vague terms, surely one of them would be willing to go check on their Lord’s safety for her.

Her lamp cast uncertain shadows on the walls as she descended, and she shivered as some of them seemed like long-clawed, winged horrors, just for a moment. She really wished that she could stop being haunted by the memories of that damned Ascian. Hadn’t he done enough?

On the next landing down she paused again, and when she heard the quiet conversation she moved in that direction. Fortunately, she spotted lamplight flickering under the door of a nearby room and moved that way. The door was cracked open, and through the gap she saw familiar purple ninja garb. If Yugiri was awake, that was the best she could hope for--she had a feeling the other woman would understand.

“...worried about her,” she heard Hien’s voice say in the next moment, and that threw all her plans into disarray. True, she could go back to bed now, confident that he was fine, but...why was  _ he _ still awake?

“I don’t know what she told you, my Lord,” came Yugiri’s voice, as calm and implacable as always, “but she is strong. I am certain she will find her way again.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to worry,” Hien said sharply, and she heard the sound of footsteps. Pacing. He was pacing? “I’m not going to share the things she told me, unburdening herself, but…”

Yugiri sighed. “And I don’t suppose at any time during all this you happened to think it relevant to tell her how  _ you _ feel about her?”

The Warrior put a hand over her mouth, eyes wide, not sure exactly what she was hearing, but sure that she wasn’t supposed to hear it.

“No, Yugiri!” he said, and he actually sounded agitated now, maybe on the very edge of anger or panic. “How callous would I have to be--when she’s unburdening herself like that? I wouldn’t want her to think I’m taking advantage, or…”

There was an indelicate snort from Yugiri’s direction. “This  _ is  _ the Warrior of Light we’re talking about, yes? I feel as though if she thought you were taking advantage she would snap you in half.”

Hien grumbled. “Yes, I’m certain she could fight me off, but I wouldn’t want to contribute to her feeling...I don’t know, betrayed, put upon…” he seemed to be struggling for words. “Whether she could  _ defend herself _ is nothing compared to the thought that I might hurt her, somehow, even if it’s not physically.”

Oh no, she was crying again. She wondered how long he’d felt like this. She hadn’t really let herself contemplate matters of the heart, always running from one crisis to the next as she was, but she couldn’t deny the way his smile got to her sometimes, the way she’d felt in his arms as she cried herself out. As slowly as she dared, she moved to the wall next to the door and leaned against it.

“What I’m trying to suggest,” Yugiri said patiently after Hien’s last outburst, “is that perhaps she’d like hearing something like that from you.”

“I don’t know if I want to take that risk, though,” Hien said, subdued. “I don’t want to…”

“Technically, you don’t have to,” Yugiri said, the very essence of calm. “She’s been lurking outside the door for a bit.”

The Warrior gasped in shock before realizing that Yugiri must have heard her as soon as she got close--how she could tell it was her, specifically, she didn’t know, but she was putting it down to dirty ninja tricks right about now. She debated for a moment if she could run before they got the door open, but Yugiri was there before she could start to move and looking at her with a highly amused expression.

“I think maybe you’d better come in,” the shinobi said, not unkindly.

She stumbled away from the wall and through the door, keeping her eyes fixed on the lamp in her hand. The wick was getting short and the flame guttering, and as long as she could focus on that, she wouldn’t have to look up, wouldn’t have to acknowledge…

Yugiri took the lamp from her hands with brisk efficiency and said something inane about going to fill it with oil and then she  _ left the room,  _ cruel, savage woman that she was, pulling the door firmly shut behind her. The Warrior felt something akin to panic, her gaze going to the door before she mustered the courage to turn and look at Hien.

Hien, who was difficult to look at, but even more difficult to look away from, because his hair was down and his armor was gone, but that robe of his was still only half-on. She was  _ sure _ that her face must be red by the time she realized that she should probably be looking at him in the eye, but she calmed somewhat at seeing his guarded expression.

“I’m sorry I was eavesdropping,” she managed after a moment, after it was clear that he wasn’t going to speak first. “I...honestly didn’t intend to, for all the good that does.”

“I’m putting this one on Yugiri,” Hien said flatly. “She could have warned me someone was outside, but she chose not to.”

“Don’t blame her,” she said at once. “No, I...there’s no way she could have known I had a nightmare...but if she knew it was me, maybe she wanted me to hear…”

“A nightmare?” Hien asked. His expression was still guarded, but he frowned slightly, and that look of concern just about undid her. “What kind of…?”

What kind of nightmare, he was probably going to ask, would send the Warrior of Light stumbling from her bed and wandering the halls, barefoot and shivering? He cut himself off, as if he realized too late he probably shouldn’t ask that, but she took the question at face value.

“I had a nightmare,” she said with precision, even as her voice started to shake, “that I lost control of the light, back on the First. That I became the greatest and most terrible Lightwarden. That I started to turn all of the Scions, except…” her voice broke at last and she swallowed before she continued. “Except you were there.”

That startled him out of his reticence. “I was…”

“And I...turned you,” she muttered, shivering now. “Your eyes went blank, and somehow I managed to...to force myself awake, and I had to…”

“My friend,” he started to say, but she shook her head sharply, stifling his words.

“I had to make sure you were okay,” she admitted at last, closing her eyes, even as tears started to seep out again. Hadn’t she done  _ enough _ crying in the last few hours? “I thought, if I managed to find a guard to make sure you were okay, I could go back to bed...but then I heard you talking and I...I…”

She wasn’t entirely surprised when she was pulled into his arms again. This time he held her  _ much _ tighter than he had before, and her face was half against the fur of his robe and half against his  _ bare skin _ , and oh. She felt like her heart was in her throat.

“I’m here,” he said, and the way his voice echoed through her with her head against his chest...she grabbed at him all at once, unable to control herself, wrapping her arms around him and not letting go.

“I’m so tired of these nightmares,” she muttered. “It was bad enough, but then when you were in this one, I couldn’t…”

He didn’t say anything, but he did start carding the fingers of one hand through her hair, endlessly gentle. It was relaxing, for all that her feet were still cold on the stone floor. Fortunately, he seemed to notice her shivering fairly quickly.

“Here,” he said, gently tugging her in the direction of a long settee against one wall. She hadn’t paid much attention to this room before, but it appeared to be some kind of sitting room, with the door to the hall and another door opposite it. She allowed him to pull her down onto the settee, sitting next to him at first, but then tugging her into his lap and fishing a heavy woolen throw from one side of the seat and draping it over her.

It helped somewhat with her shivering, but so did his proximity. He was warm, and she felt almost as if she could drift off to sleep again easily, here in his arms, head resting against his chest. When he started speaking again, though, all sleepiness vanished.

“What I told Yugiri was true, you know,” he said, his grip tightening slightly. “I admire you far more than just as a friend. You...I don’t know how you manage to be such a hero the world over, and do it with beauty and grace, no less.”

“Poorly, if our earlier conversation is any measure,” she admitted with a watery laugh.

“None of that,” he admonished her, squeezing her a bit tighter against his chest. “If anything, that whole conversation just made me admire you the more. You’re not just some untouchable hero. You’re as mortal as the rest of us, no matter how you might worry. You have the same fears and hopes and dreams. How could I not love you all the more, knowing that?”

Her heart stuttered in her chest, or felt like it did, at least. “Hien, you…”

“Oh, I said that out loud, didn’t I,” he said, his tone slightly worried.

“Hien…” she murmured. “If I’m not saying it back, it’s only because I’ve never let myself even think about any of this, do you understand? It’s because I felt like I was never  _ allowed _ something like this. That my place has only ever been as a hero, and never as...just a person.”

She pulled away from him just enough that she could look him in the eyes, even if she blushed even more doing so.

“I would...very dearly like to learn to let myself have something like that for you. With you.”

His eyes were suspiciously bright, but she didn’t say anything about it, just nodded as he slid a hand up to the back of her head, as he glanced from her lips to her eyes. She leaned toward him as he met her halfway.

The kiss started out gentle, almost chaste, but then from the space of one moment to the next it became something much more passionate. His hand tightened in her hair, and she thought that was a fine idea, so she wound  _ both _ of her hands into that mane of his, and he let out a choked, hungry kind of moan that went straight down her spine. She parted her lips, encouragingly, and that was all the prompting he needed to lick into her mouth, prompting some noises from  _ her _ that were muffled by the kiss.

Of course, when they parted for breath, she had to ruin it all with a jaw-cracking yawn. There was a moment after that where she paused in utter mortification, but she noticed his shoulders were shaking with amusement and she couldn’t help laughing at herself, and then  _ he _ started laughing, and they collapsed into each other until they got control of themselves.

“I didn’t think I was  _ that _ boring,” he teased at last.

“Don’t even joke!” she scolded. “No, I think I might just--” her words were interrupted by another yawn. “Ugh. I might just be at my limit, finally.”

Because she was finally relaxing, being close to him, probably, but she didn’t say that part out loud.

“Well,” he said. “I can take you back to your room, if you want--” when she shook her head in response, clinging tighter, he cleared his throat, a bit self-consciously, but continued speaking. “Or...my bedroom  _ is _ just here.” He nodded at the other door she’d noticed earlier.

“Do you mean to tell me,” she said, her voice a little soft now that she wasn’t trying to hold back her exhaustion, “that I was eavesdropping at the Lord of Doma’s own chambers? How inexcusably rude.”

He grinned and tilted her chin up to give her another kiss, this one staying gentle. “In this case, I prefer to think of it as fortunate. Now, let’s get you to bed.”


	4. Chapter 4

Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her eyes open as Hien carried her into the bedroom, and she was asleep even before he could tuck the blankets around her. Therefore, she had a moment of real confusion when she woke the next morning, as her senses filtered back to her one by one.

She was warm, covered by several woven Ala Mhigan blankets and with someone holding her close. A lone ray of sunlight cut through the carved shutters over the window, and the smell of pine and woodsmoke surrounded her. Soft, sleepy breathing from behind her…

_ Hien. _

Sure enough, when she looked down, it was undeniably his arm holding her, and must accordingly be him at her back.

So she had slept the rest of the night through, dreamless, with him here anchoring her to reality. Her breath hitched in her chest slightly at the thought--was it really so simple? Was anything?

She turned, slowly, not wanting to disturb him, and found herself momentarily transfixed by the sleepy tangle of his hair and the way some of the lines were smoothed out of his face by sleep. The sunbeam struck the far wall, and the reflected light cast soft shadows between them. It was almost dreamlike--a much nicer dream than the nightmare that had driven her from her room.

His chest was bare, too, and she contemplated it thoughtfully, eyes tracing every scar, even one or two that disappeared under the sheet that was tangled around their waists. His arm tightened around her slightly, and when she looked up again, his eyes were open just a bit, taking her in through the fog of sleep.

He smiled, softly, still sleepy. “Good morning,” he rasped out. “Sleep well?”

She nodded, and impulsively leaned in to kiss him, a continuation from last night. It wasn’t perfect, which helped, in a way--proof that this was real, and not just some strange and lovely dream cooked up by her subconscious. The angle was a bit odd, and his hair was in the way, which at least gave her a good laugh at his aggrieved expression when they pulled away from each other.

“This is why I don’t wear it loose,” he muttered. A thoughtful look crossed his face, and his grip on her tightened for a moment as he rolled onto his back, bringing her with him to lie on his chest.

The feeling of suddenly being pressed against him like that made her head swim a bit, especially the press of his half-hard cock against her, tantalizing even through the layers of cloth that separated them. Her breath hitched and he hummed a little bit in response. Then he slid his arm up her back, to the back of her head, pulling her down for another kiss. This one was much better, she decided, without his hair in the way and without her traitorous body deciding to interrupt it with a yawn.

He started slow, but it was no time at all before he was tracing her bottom lip with his tongue, and she found herself clinging to his arms as he picked up where they’d left off last night. It wasn’t long before he was rolling his hips against her as well, in long, slow presses that coincided with deep kisses or his hand pressing against her lower back. She could feel just how hard he was getting, and it made a shiver go through her whole body.

“This okay?” he rasped out when they broke apart for air, and she nodded, mumbling a hurried ‘yes’ against his lips and twining her hands into his hair. His hips jerked upward rather more insistently at that, and she considered that for a moment before she gave it a gentle tug.

He  _ growled _ and flipped them in between the space of one breath and the next, and suddenly he was braced above her, his hair screening them in like a curtain, his gaze fiery. He kissed her again, messy now, lips trailing from her mouth to the corner, to her neck, to where her collarbone was exposed by the drape of her loose shirt. She gasped, then moaned as he ran a hand up under the bottom hem and splayed his fingers out against her side, squeezing just enough for her to feel his nails before he moved up her body to her breasts. He palmed one briefly before rolling that nipple between his thumb and fingers, and she arched up off the bed toward him with a needy cry.

“You’re more expressive than I expected,” he said roughly, and kissed her on the mouth again before moving away. She felt momentarily disappointed until his hands were at her waist, pushing her loose pants and underwear down and away. She helped by kicking them off, distantly hoping not to seem too eager, but he merely chuckled and looked up at her with a bright grin before leaning in to kiss his way from one of her knees up the inside of her thigh. She shivered as his lips moved higher, and then there was a moment’s pause, long enough that she looked down in a silent question as to why he’d stopped. She found him looking up at her, his expression so  _ tender _ that she squirmed in something approaching discomfort, not entirely able to handle that level of emotion at the moment.

Mercifully, he seemed to realize that, and chuckled softly before moving in again, this time going straight for her clit and putting that clever tongue of his to good use. In mere moments she was gasping and trying not to buck her hips too much, a problem he solved by draping one arm across them to gently, but firmly, hold her in place. She whined at that, and he responded by tilting his head to nip at the inside of her thigh in gentle admonition.

“Monster,” she managed to huff out, and he merely chuckled again before going back to work, this time working the fingers of his free hand up inside her and crooking them, seeing what she liked best. She’d spent so long not even being touched by others that it was riling her up remarkably fast, and she soon found herself gripping at his arm and his hair as her body very nearly fought against the pleasure he was visiting upon it. He was relentless, and seemed to realize that she was struggling toward climax, her mind and worries all crumbling to pieces, mortar unable to hold as she shuddered and shook apart.

She came with an almost anticlimactic exhalation of ‘oh’, and in that instant it felt like her soul was broken apart more violently than by the radiance of the Lightwardens, and repaired just as swiftly, his touch a ready balm upon the raw edges of her very self.

As she sank back into the bed, feeling nearly boneless and utterly relaxed for once, she quietly considered the ridiculousness of it--of feeling like this from being eaten out by the Lord of Doma, for crying out loud--but then he smiled up at her again, and she scolded that other, doubting part of her mind. Whatever had brought it about--maybe this was just part of accepting the very real, very  _ mortal _ facts of her existence again.

Maybe she really  _ had _ needed it.

And so she lifted her arms as he eased her shirt up and off, then lowered them to his waistband, murmuring little nonsense words as she pushed  _ his _ remaining clothes away, and shivering in pleasant anticipation at the sight of his cock. Finding herself unashamed, she rolled over, bracing on her forearms and knees and looking back at him over her shoulder. Like this, she said without words.

He leaned forward, running a hand down the line of her spine, as gentle as anything, then gripping her hips hard enough that she was sure she’d have bruises--which was somehow the perfect counterpoint to the lingering languor in her whole body. Her breathing was shallow from anticipation as she felt him shift, and then he was  _ there, _ sliding into her and hilting all in one thrust, and she let out a moan of pleasure, dipping her head down at the pleasant ache of her body stretching around him. He hissed, his grip tightening on her hips--just slightly--and then he started moving in earnest.

He set a pace that was steady and utterly unceasing, even when she started moving too, motion aided by his grip on her hips once he realized what she was doing. Soon, she was insensate to anything but the points where they were connected--his fingers digging into her skin, his cock spearing her over and over, the brush of his unbound hair on her back as he leaned over her. She gasped, feeling free of all expectation, just for a moment, her mind in stasis and her body singing to the heavens, a kind of revelation that was not divine but imperfectly mortal.

It was just what she needed.

It faded, but traces of it lingered as Hien’s thrusting finally grew erratic, as he came with a shout, his grip loosening at last. The sting that followed told her that she’d have bruises for sure. She found that she liked the idea. He ran a hand down her spine again, gentle and almost reverent, and leaned over her to kiss the back of her neck. She shivered at the ticklish trail of his hair and the brush of his beard.

“Hien, I…” she trailed off, unable to find words to explain what had happened, how she felt. “Thank you.” She immediately felt like the world’s greatest idiot, for putting it like that.  _ Thank you?  _ What kind of a response was that after having the kind of sex that had re-centered her in her very  _ self? _

Fortunately, he seemed to get it, because she heard him laugh slightly in delighted amusement before he spoke. “Mm. You seem more relaxed now...good. You had me worried enough.”

“I know...I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t promise it won’t happen again.”

“If it does, then I’ll just have to help you relax again, won’t I?” he replied roguishly, kissing the back of her neck again. “Come on. Let’s go get a bath, and then breakfast.”

She found that both of those sounded wonderful, and she smiled as he pulled away and then offered her a hand up. Perhaps this business about remembering to be mortal, and not the untouchable Warrior of Light, wouldn’t be so hard after all.


End file.
